a little less afraid
by coffee-not-decaf
Summary: During the zombie apocalypse, a claustrophobic Gwen falls into a pit where she meets a terrified of the undead Leon.


Gwen was frozen in her skin.

When the man that wasn't quite a man, with his decaying skin and bloodied mouth had chased her into the dilapidated building, she half-expected it to cave in on her. She could deal with that – being crushed to death was preferable to being turned into that creature that Gwen couldn't quite bring herself to call a zombie.

However, both were preferable to the situation she was in now.

Backing into the building with the beast following her, heavy in his left foot and bloody drool coming out of his mouth, she shot at him until her ammunition supplies were all but vanished. She had been prepared for the end, for the teeth in her flesh and the pain in her bloodstream, but she hadn't accounted for the floorboards coming loose.

She plummeted downward, shrieking in shock, the dead man that would have meant her death disappearing from view in an instant.

Gwen fell into darkness for what felt like several days but in reality was probably less than twenty seconds before she finally hit a gravelly floor. She winced and cradled her side where it had hit.

"Shit, ouch," she said out loud as she traced her hands around the sheer darkness around her. It didn't take long for her to discover that she was surrounded by walls less than eight feet from her. It was then that her blood ran cold and she started breathing heavily, panic running through her.

Gwen _hated_ claustrophobic spaces. Hated, hated, hated them. Being transformed into one of the undead would be so much better than being stuck in dark confinement. Looking back up to the hole she fell through, she saw only a sliver of light.

She shivered violently and drew her legs up to her chest. She tried to control her breathing, in and out, because if she didn't she might have a panic attack and obviously had no medication with her –

"Hello? Is someone there?" A hushed voice whispered from the black.

Gwen lifted her head up, heart stuttering. She hadn't seen another living, breathing, _talking _person in at least a week, since she was separated from Arthur and Lancelot during a rabid attack from a dozen or more zombies.

"Yes, yes, I'm here," Gwen whispered, just in case the creature from above had decided to stick around. "Where – where are you? I can't see you."

"I'm – I'm right here," a large, firm hand from behind her gripped her shoulder. Gwen turned around, despite not being able to see the man, for it was definitely a man, the voice was deep and raspy from lack of use.

Gwen lifted her own smaller hand up to clasp the man's. "Oh, God, thank you. I thought I was about to have a panic attack."

"Really?" the man asked, concern trickling through his voice and his grip on her became tighter. "Are you alright? Should I – do something?"

Gwen laughed a bit desperately. "Not much you _could _do – but just being around someone helps. I can't tell you how glad I am to see you. Well, not _see _you, but…"

"I know what you mean," the man laughed quietly. "I've been down here for at least a day now."

"Oh, that's horrible," Gwen couldn't suppress a shudder, which drew the man's other hand up to her opposite shoulder. Being held there felt nice, felt good, and felt like she wasn't about to collapse. "Have you tried at all to get out?"

The man sucked in a tentative breath. "No. I'm actually…quite terrified of the zombies, so I figured this was probably the best place for me to stay."

"Scared of zombies?" Gwen winced as she held on of her own hands. Not being able to see, she missed the man's shoulder and got his chest instead. It was a nice chest, warm and solid. "I don't think this is the world for you."

"Probably not," the man gave out a strained laugh. "But – aren't you? I mean, you were about to have a panic attack, so –"

"Claustrophobia," Gwen told him. "Been a problem since I was a kid."

"Same with my zombie issue," the man's voice took on a distinctly joking tone. "I couldn't even watch Night of the Living Dead when I was a teenager. I got poked fun at continually."

Gwen grinned to herself. "What – what's your name?"

"I'm Leon," the man introduced himself. "I'd shake your hand, but I think we'd probably end up missing each other entirely."

She giggled. "I'm Gwen. I'm…I'm really glad I met you."

"Me, too," Leon said. "It was getting rather lonely down here, and my supplies are dwindling fast."

"Mine, too," she shook her head. "I don't know where my pack fell, but I only had a small bit of ammo and maybe a can of sardines and a water bottle in there."

"I have a couple waters left, if you want one," Leon said and Gwen smiled, even though he couldn't see it. Sharing supplies was a form of camaraderie here in this new world, and Gwen was in desperate need of a comrade right now.

"I'm okay for now," Gwen breathed. "Although the space is really getting to me."

"We could try to climb out –" Leon began reluctantly, hesitantly, but Gwen shushed him.

"I just had a zombie come after me up there, we should wait. Plus, I need to calm down a bit first."

"What can I do?" Leon said, deep and reassuring, a hand reaching up to cup her cheek and brush away her curls, and Gwen sighed into the touch.

"Tell me about you, about your life before all this started up. If we're going to die down here, I'd like a nice bedtime story."

She couldn't see, but she could tell, somehow, that Leon was smiling.

Suddenly the end of the world didn't seem like such a tragedy, if it meant Gwen met someone like this. She hoped that they managed to pull themselves out this, because she very much wanted to know more of Leon than his voice and his hands.


End file.
